Control
by CantWaitForYesterday
Summary: "I can't believe this.", I raise my gun at the crowd of demons running towards us. "I can't do this!" I yell. "Yes you can, dammit!" Dean growled as fires one round going through two of them. "Raise your gun and shoot, Claire. NOW!" I flinch. These are people we are killing. Yes, they are trying to kill us, but they are possessed. I shakily raise the rifle and cock it and shoot.
1. Prologue

**_This is the Prologue to my story "Control". Stay tuned!_**

**_Prologue_**

That feeling of excruciating fear _right_ before you leap over the brink of unconsciousness? The wool going over your eyes and the inability to stand up? The realm similar to purgatory that consumes your being in a matter of seconds. _That_ is what I fear most. Losing control of any given situation that will inevitably lead me to this…

My life up until now has been a series of upsets. And, leaving home seemed to be the only thing that would help. God was I wrong. It was the best possible thing I could've done. Death has become my closest friend who never failed to show up when it was least expected. Loss should also be my middle name. _This_ was the beginning of losing control.


	2. Chapter 2: Want a ride?

**Author's note**

Remember when I said that this would be coming out soon? Yeaaaaah. I'm sorry. Currently, I have two jobs and am a full-time student, but I promise I will dedicate most of my free time updating. So, without further ado, here is the first technical chapter!

-Becka

"What am I doing here?" I verbally mutter in my car. With Dad being gone, I have no idea what I want to do. Ever since he died, my life doesn't matter anymore. I lost motivation. With haste, I throw my car into drive and soar onto the highway.

I can't believe it's been two years already. Two years since he died. And, two years since I dropped out of college. Yeah, I know. I've gotten the lecture. But, after his death, I have found a more universal purpose in life. I decided to live out his legacy, and perhaps even die trying.

I zone out with my old cassette tape titled "Rock and Roll" roaring in the background when I see two men running along the side of the road. They don't seem to be doing this calmly, either. I see that they might need help, so I pull over, now in a residential area. I pull up ahead of them and get out of the car. When they reach my car, I wave my arms.

"Hey, everything okay? Do you guys need help?" I take notice of the fact that they are both a lot larger than I had expected and both are carrying guns, which takes me by surprise and I keep my guard up.

"Sorry, we are kind of in a hurry, miss", the taller man said while glancing at the other one.

"Well, I can see that." I smile. "Do you guys need help?" They look confused and frown at me as if I were speaking a different language.

"You don't even know us, we are heavily armed, and we are _running_ from something, and you want to help us?" the no-so-tall one speaks up.

"Oh, did you want to get caught?" I smirk. "Listen, I am offering you a free ride to your car or wherever you want…you _really _gonna pass that up?" They glance at each other and uncock their guns and follow me to my car. Once I buckle in, I look over and see that the two men are already inside the car. I start the car and drive off.

"So, what's the deal?" I ask when it gets too quiet.

"No. What's _your_ deal, lady?" the small one snaps. The man in the back seat tries to stop him from talking. "You just let two overpowering men into your car, who you don't even know, with guns, no less, and you are taking this way too calmly."

I look over to the tall man in the backseat then back at the man riding shotgun.

"Well, there are three possible answers: One, I could have a third-degree black belt in Taijutsu. Two, I really am stupid. Or three, I am armed with ten guns in this car, two of which are on my person at this second. I'll give you a hint; only one is false. Do you _really _think I'm scared?" I finally look over and see the front seat passenger scanning my body looking for a possible weapon. The man in the backseat is still silent, but he has sunken back in the seat.

"So, what's your guy's names?"

_To be continued…._

Again, sorry for the hiatus! Will update as soon as possible!

-Becka


	3. Chapter 3: Good Times and Bad Times

Chapter 3: Good Times Bad Times

Author's Note:

Hallo! I hope everyone is doing well! I am on the home stretch when it comes to classes. I only have less than a month until finals, then I'm home free. My thanksgiving break is next week, so expect a LOT of updates. I have a lot of ideas brewing…

-Becka

The two boys are still staring at me as if I'm a ticking time bomb. "No? Okay, I'll go first. I'm Claire Estes, and you are?" I look over again as we reach a stop light. The tower in the back seat finally speaks up.

"I'm Sam Winchester." He nudges the man in front.

"I'm Dean Winchester." He returns the nudge. I smile and feel accomplished. "So, which fact was false?"

"Facts are never false, Dean." I retort.

"You know what I mean." He growls.

"In a sense, they are all true. I have a gun on me and there are many more in the trunk, I AM combat trained, but stupid?" I pause and actually think about it. "I'll get back to you on that." He seems to relax, but only a little bit. "So, where are you parked?" I break the silence.

"Our car…is, um…Sammy?" Dean suddenly looks panicked.

"Uh…where are we, Claire?" Sam asks. The strange question took me by surprise.

"Le Claire, Iowa. Why?"

"Dean, our car is three states over!" Sam runs his hand through his hair and falls back in his seat.

"Dammit." Dean yells, startling me.

"_What _is going on?" I pull over. The boys search their pockets for something and the both produce phones.

"We were running from…uh…" The moose stammered. I adjust myself to face him.

"You really think I'm goi-"

"We were running from a demon." Dean pipes up. My heart drops. What are the odds? Of all the things that could have been said…

"A demon?" I ask. They both nod, thinking the worst. "Well, that _is_ definitely…different." I turn back in my seat and turn the car off.

"It kidnapped us." Sam tries to explain.

"Sam, she's not going to-", Dean starts.

"How far?" I interrupt.

"Excuse me?" Dean looked shocked.

"How far to where you guys need to go?"

"You're serious?" Dean said. I turn to him and nod. "You actually believe us?" I sit there and think about that. Two men come crashing into my life and tell me they were running from a demon? Do I believe them? If there's anything I believe in, it's the fear that is in these two's eyes that I remember all too well. They remind me of my father.

"I more than believe you. I grew up hearing about them. I have seen them." I pause and gauge their reactions. "My father was a hunter."


	4. Chapter 4: Immigrant Song

Chapter 4: Immigrant Song

Author's Note:

Sorry these past updates were short! The next few will be better!

-Becka

"You don't say?" Dean scoffed. I nodded, still serious. "Small world after all, right Sammy?" Dean nudged Sam.

"Our Dad was also a hunter." Sam finished. "What was his name?"

"Danny Estes." I replied. "Died a year ago last week."

"Sorry to hear that." Dean shifted in his seat to face me. "You know, our Dad died, too. Due to his line of work."

"How did you know he died fighting?" I was fighting tears.

"No hunter goes down without a fight." Dean quickly noted with a sympathetic smirk. Sam nodded along. I look around and notice that we have been sitting here parked for a while and it was getting dark, so I started the car and headed toward the interstate.

The lights of oncoming cars repeatedly shine on my face as we approach the first state line. I take notice that Sam is fast asleep in the back seat, sprawled out like a deer on the side of the road. He was too big for my back seat, that's for sure. Dean looks like he is sleeping, but I'm not sure. I reach for the volume dial to add some background noise.

"You better not be playing friggin Taylor Swift." Dean muttered with his eyes closed, causing me to jump out of my skin. God, this was going to be a long trip.

"I don't listen to modern pop, what do you think, I'm stupid?" I irritably say as he sits up in the seat. "I thought you were sleeping."

"I can't sleep in a stranger's car." Dean simply added. "Sam on the other hand, could sleep standing up." I chuckle.

"Well, let's get to know each other, then!" I eagerly suggest.

"What?" Dean asks exasperatedly.

"We're going to be spending the next few hundred odd miles with each other, so we might as well make it go quicker." I add. "Where are you guys from?"

"Kansas".

"What's your favorite color?"

"Black."

"What's your favorite model car?"

"The car I drive."

"Which is?"

"'67 Chevy Impala." I look over to him and notice that he isn't even looking at me. Well, this isn't going to work.

"Well, alright. No need to talk my ear off." I am getting irritated. "Umm, how was your relationship with your Dad?" Dean looks over to me with a blank look, but I remain persistent and wait for an answer.

"It was fine, I guess. He told me what to do and like a good son, I obeyed. Happy?"

"I guess." I answer and he nods. "Can I ask you something?"

"What's been stopping you so far?"

"How did you become a hunter?" I cut right to the point. He is silent for a while.

"I grew into it. My mother died when I was very young and Sammy was a baby. We grew up learning how to clean guns, make motel reservations, learn to take care of a kid when he was gone for weeks at a time. I never knew what it was like_ not_ to be a hunter. It was not my choice." He became silent.

"I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, that's pretty similar to how I grew up, except I had a Mom around. Although, she went on most of the hunts with him." I chuckled. "They actually spent their 20th anniversary hunting a ghost." Dean chuckled.

"That sounds like something my folks would've done, too." I chuckle again. "So, why were you in Le Claire? Do you live there?"

"I don't live anywhere really. I'm trying to figure some things out. I'm from Chicago, but after my father passed, I just kind of went on an endless drive and ended up there." Dean seems interested. "Ever since he died, I made a promise to myself that I would do everything in my power to find what kill him and then kill it."

"Whoa, you…want to be a hunter?" When I nod, he frantically starts shaking again. "No, no. You do _not_ want to be involved in this life, Claire. You somehow avoided this life up until now. Don't waste it." I stop the car to go to the nearest gas station.

"My father was the world to me and I assume you feel the same way about yours. He did nothing but do everything in his power to protect me, hell, protect the world if he could. Don't try and tell me that when your father died, you didn't feel entitled to do something in return. Even just this once." Dean leans against the window and gazes at me.

"Can't argue with that." He simply says.


	5. Chapter 5: Urgent

Chapter 5: Urgent

Author's Note: I am on a roll! I am extremely excited about this story. The posts will be getting longer. Side note, though: Please leave reviews as this is my first story that I've written that is _in order _haha. And, I am overwhelmed by the amount of views this story is getting too! Hope all is well!

-Becka

After driving for what seems forever, Dean and Sam wake up. We are still in the Midwest and are about to reach the edge of Illinois.

"How long have you been driving?" Sam worriedly asks. I absentmindedly rub my eyes and scratch my head.

"Since we started."

"Jesus, Claire. We need to stop. It's been over 24 hours!" Dean screeches.

"I've gone longer without sleep, you guys. I'm fine."

"We need to get to a hotel, now." Sam rubbed his eyes along with me. "So we don't crash. Literally." I guess I am feeling a little exhausted. So, I give in and drive to the nearest hotel.

Once we pull up to the hotel, I get out to get my belongings from my trunk and the boys follow me. Once the trunk is open, I notice that this would not be something to keep unlocked. I gaze at the assortment of guns, bullets, and a bunch of other odds and ends that I had to retrieve before the family found them. I was pretty much the only one, besides my mother, who knew his real occupation. All the times I've had to clean these guns, recite spells in case of emergency. I reach for my duffel bag and go to shut the trunk.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean started. "Look, Sammy! She _is _packing heat!" he whistles. Sam swings his bag over his shoulder and saunters to the back of my car and takes a few steps back.

"Wow." Sam also whistled. They both start to grab at the guns and check if they are loaded. I suddenly feel self-conscious as if my underwear drawer was being raided. Although, the contents in this trunk are about as personal to me as such things. Dean finally comes across a couple of pictures, which I immediately snatch away. Of all the things I have to remember him from, this would have to be the utmost important. I lower my gaze to the picture and see a younger version of me posing with my soccer uniform on and my father with his arm around me. My mother took this picture about ten years ago. She died a week later in a car accident. She was excessively tired and my father was on a hunt, and we were on our way home from the big game. Thinking back on it, I still only remember the impact throwing me into the windshield cracking it, but my mother actually making it through. She died a week later.

"I'm sorry." Dean muttered. "Is that your Dad?" I nod and slowly hand it back to him.

"Good-looking son-of-a-gun, huh, Sammy?" Dean chuckled and nudged his brother. "You must get it from him." Dean winked to tried to make me chuckle.

"No, if I got it from anybody, it'd be from my mother." I smile fondly. "God, she was so damn gorgeous. I was always envious of her. She was the second best hunter I knew, right next to my father." He handed the picture back to me and I lowered it back into the trunk.

"How did your mother die?" Sam bluntly asked. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Jeez, Sammy, wanna sugar-coat it a little?" Dean looked at me almost apologetically.

"Car accident. Died a week later." They both stop and look sullen. I grab the hood and close it and make sure it is locked. "Been ten years now and she took that picture right before it happened. My father took a different car because he was on a case." I examine my fingers to avoid looking at them. "My father didn't get back in time. He never forgave himself." I start to walk away and was stopped.

"We'll pay for the stay." Sam stated. I turned around and smiled.

"How do you guys have money?" I laugh.

"Nah, we always have money somehow." Dean smiled and Sam smiles, too, as if part of a secret joke. I shrug and throw my duffel bag over my shoulder and make my way to the building.

Once we open the door to the room, the sight of a bed almost brings me to my knees. My bag slips in between my fingers and I decide to skip the shower for now. I let my body fall face first into the bed and with my eyes closed, I use my feet to take my shoes off one at a time. My vision starts to fade as I go unconscious.

_Crash._

The sound of glass shattering fills my ears as I feel my body being jerked out of my seat as easily as a ragdoll. When I open my eyes, everything is black. The pain coursing through my body and not one single inch was without pain. When I finally become aware, I realize that my body is wedged in between the windshield and the dashboard. Somehow my body was able to fit, but it doesn't make sense as to why I didn't fly out when there is a perfect circle pierced through the windshield directly beside me. I then realized what was missing.

"Mom?" my voice came out hoarse to the point I beyond recognition. I repeatedly call out for help and try to free myself from the glass. I continue to ask for my Mom until my voice is gone. With sudden adrenaline, I decide that I am not dying here and start to drag myself out from under the glass. The shards scrape and tug at my skin all the while I am grunting and crying. Once I finally see clearly, I find my mother laying on the pavement with her limbs distorted and bent out of shape. I then deduce that the hole in the windshield was from her. My breathing became hollower as I start crawling to her. I try to stand up, but there is a large shard of glass sunken into my leg, so I make due with crawling. After what seems like forever, I still can't reach her. I let out one more garbled "MOM" which leaves a daunting echo before my body finally lets me reach her.

When I prop myself onto my hands, pieces of glass fall from my hair and clothes. I reach out for my mother's face and caress her cheek, which is covered with micro-scratches. Despite the accident, she still looks breathtaking. I whisper continuously to try to wake her up, but it doesn't work. I finally accept that she isn't bouncing back from this one. I lean over her body and touch her face again. Her eyes open and the whole of her eyes are black and she grabs my hands and screams a garbled mess. I scream along with her and my eyes widen to the point where they might roll out of my head. I continue screaming until someone starts to shake me. I am confused as to why I am being shaken when I am looking at my mother. I then realize that I am dreaming.

"Wake up, dammit!" Dean is hovering over me on the bed closest to the window with his hands on my shoulders. Once I come to, I stop screaming. "Jesus, are you alright?" he gets off me and guides me off my back to lean up. I rub my eyes and realize that we have only been here for a couple of hours. Oh, what the people next door must think. Sam is standing next to us over the bed next to his laptop worriedly.

"I'm fine. Just a nightmare." I shrug it off. Something was different about this dream. Those eyes. I've never seen anything like it.

"Hell of a nightmare, Claire." Dean said. "What was it about?"

"I don't remember," I lied.

"Bull. You don't forget that." Dean got off the bed and glares at me.

"Listen, I need some fresh air. I'll be back." I make my way over to the door and I look back at the boys right before the door shuts and they look beyond confused. Once it is closed, I run as fast as I can to the nearest bathroom and puke my guts out.

To be continued…

Please feel free to comment and review, it would be greatly appreciated for a new writer like me:D


	6. Chapter 6: Have A Drink On Me

Chapter 6: Have a Drink on Me

Author's Note: Hello! At the moment I am currently on break and it feels like Frozone's armpit in Illinois. I am really sorry about lack of updates, I PROMISE I will get better haha

_The screaming._ It still is echoing in my mind as I force my hands into the walls of the bathroom stall. Those eyes are haunting my conscious mind. A soft knock on the stall makes me jump.

"You in there?" I hear Dean's voice on the other side of the door.

"Yes." I stutter out.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asks.

"There's nothing to talk about." I turn around and unlock the door and see him leaning against the sinks. He has his arms crossed around his chest and is staring blankly at me. I wipe my mouth and go to the sink, but he stands in my way and tries to read my face. I try to move to the side, but he moves along with me. I stop and look down and he hands me a piece of gum. I nod my gratitude and wash my hands.

"Don't insult me." Dean says while he grabs paper towels for me. I grab the towels from him.

"Why would I do that?" I mutter, looking at my drying hands.

"Let's grab a bite to eat. You have to be hungry now." I stand there as he opens the door and we look at each other for a second. Finally, I walk out of the door.

The smell of a diner will always be a comfort to me. I used to come to our local diner almost every Saturday and on my birthday. Sam, Dean, and I take a seat in the farthest booth from everyone else. Dean orders a bacon cheeseburger and I follow suit because I am suddenly extremely hungry.

"So, what was the dream about?" Sam blurts out. I stop the burger midway and sit it down. I sigh.

"It was about my Mom, alright? I relived the accident. Like, almost exactly."

"Almost?" Dean interjected. I look up at him and Sam seeing that they hadn't touched their food.

"You guys will think I'm crazy." I chuckle as I take a bite of my burger.

"Try us." Sam said.

"You guys are hunters, right?" I start. "You've seen demons, ghosts?" They nod together and start to frown. "Well…I think I saw one in there."

"What did you see, Claire?" Dean groaned.

"My mother's eyes were black." I become annoyed. "She grabbed my hands when I reached out to her corpse and she started screaming some high-pitched garbage." The boys hardly changed their demeanor.

"Have you ever seen her like that in your dreams?" Dean became intrigued. I shake my head.

"The thing is, it felt like I was reliving it. I felt my body being crushed by the windshield and glass cutting me. I even felt her hands on my wrists. I've never felt like this before. I only ever felt like I was hovering over the accident, not living it all over again."

"Do you remember what she said?" Sam said.

"No, it was too painful to listen to. It hurts my head. It wasn't English, that's for sure." I lean back as I take one last bite. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was Latin." That made the boys look up from the table. I place my head in my hands and start shaking the sound from my mind. "Why would I dream that my mother was a monster?" Sam's hands reached for mine and slowly guided them back to the table.

"It's okay, Claire. No one can control their dreams. It has to be normal to have nightmares about traumatic events. Hell, Dean and I have them all the time." Sam chuckled and Dean made an agreeing face as he took a drink of coffee.

"It's been ten years, why is it still happening?" I groaned.

"Things like that you don't just 'get over', Claire. You learn to cope. What takes someone two months to cope can take someone two years, depending on the situation." Dean rested his arm on the back of the booth and sighed. He stopped mid-sigh and looked over at me. "_Still?_" he asked. "Have you seen your mother like that before?"

_Damn. _I thought to myself. "No, it's not the first time."

"How involved were you in your Dad's hunting?" Dean asked.

"Never even fired a gun. I mean, I have, but not at _anyone_." I retorted before a sip of coffee. The boys looked less than impressed. "I really would love to hunt with you guys."

"No offense, but why the hell would you want that?" Sam asked.

"After my Dad died, I had absolutely no one. I was always the one helping him with leads and researching day in and out so he knew what he was doing and where he was going. Despite that, I felt useless. All I did was read or type on a computer. I never saved his life, nor did I do anything vastly important. I want to live my life knowing I was able to save someone. Even if it's just one." I hold my breath and look at the boys through my eyelashes.

"I'll call Bobby to see if he has anything." Sam looks at his phone and leaves the booth. Once he's gone, I look at Dean to see him looking at me.

"What?" I suddenly feel self-conscious. He shifts to face me.

"Why do you have this need to prove yourself?" he narrows his eyes as I fiddle with my fingers.

"I just told you. I don't want to be a bump on a log anymore."

"You know there are safer ways to make a difference." Dean scoffed. "But, you seem like the kind of girl who is arrogant, stubborn, a hard-ass, and won't take 'no' for an answer." I turn towards him and he puts his guard up as if I'm about to slap him. I consider it. "But, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't the same way. You just have this…light and naïve-ness to you. Like an innocence." I finally look up at him and he nudges me to get off the booth. I listen to him and he follows me. Once we are standing in front of the booth, he reaches in his pocket and takes out a necklace. The necklace has a black chain with a small clear jar attached to it. Inside the jar is a white crystal-like substance. "It's salt." He notices my confusion. "Demons hate it and will stall them for a few moments, which is much more than you'll probably need because you won't be far from us anyway."

"Wait. You mean…I can hunt with you?" I take the necklace.

"We will start with small stuff to give you a little taste of the life." He replied and turned me around once he noticed that I'm struggling.

"We'll be here for hours." His warm hands take me by surprise as they wrap around my neck to reach for the chain. I hand it to him and he quickly clasps it. He turns me back around and guides me out of the diner.

Once I start the car, Sam slaps the phone shut and sighs.

"Got anything?" Dean asked. Sam turned to face Dean who is sitting in the backseat.

"Well, Bobby said that there is a lead in St. Louis, which isn't far from here and is on our way to our car."

"What kind of lead?" Dean asks.

"So, get this," Sam chuckles. "He said there have been people calling the police very recently reporting stolen…you ready for this? Dolls." I turn the music down all the way and frown.

"You mean like Chucky?" I ask. Sam nods.

"Well, that's just great. We got a Barbie Bandit. How do we know its supernatural and not just some creep with a fetish?" Dean has the most annoyed look on his face at this point.

"Because the dolls appear to be returning to the same house they were reportedly stolen from. But, that's not the weirdest part, once the dolls are returned, they seem to take a life of their own. The people also report the dolls moving and even one woman had her hair pulled." Sam pulled out a map and started to guide me to Missouri.

"Do you even have the materials for this hunt, Claire?" Dean asked.

"You mean, she's going to help us hunt?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Yes. Now returning to my original question."

"I'm not sure. I mainly have artillery and what you saw in the trunk." I reply.

"Well, if this is just a possession, we should be okay." Dean answered. "But, first things first: we gotta teach Claire here how her little toys work."

Author's Note: Please review and I'm super ultra mega sorry about the hiatus!


	7. Chapter 7: Riding the Storm Out

Chapter 7: Riding the Storm Out

Author's Note: Hello again! Hope everyone is doing well. I am starting to get really excited about this story, I have a lot of twists and turns coming up that will be sure to rustle your jimmies. (sorry, I got excited xD) I am confident that I will be able to update once a week now. I start school again on the 21st and I will do my best to cram a bunch in there. Please review so I know how I'm doing

"Dean, this is kind of freaking me out." I shakily aim the pistol at the bottle Dean propped up on a railroad tie fence. He stands behind me and adjusts my grip and arms. I try hard not to notice the closeness and warmth coming off of him. His scent is a mix of leather and whiskey and somehow it was comforting.

"Just relax. Lower your arms a little bit." His hands gently guide my arms downward. "Now, one thing you should know about guns is that they have what's called 'recoil'. This means that when you shoot it, the force can propel the gun backward and I've seen pretty brutal examples of guns flying back into the persons face or blowing their fingers off. Which is what you are going to do if you don't move your fingers, Claire." I notice my finer is over the barrel and I quickly remove it and Dean can't help hide his smirk. "Stick with me kid, I'll show you how to NOT die." I smile and adjust my grip. The makeshift shooting range has become extremely quiet. The only gun I have ever fired was extremely small, kind of like the ones you see in James Bond, the ones you can fit in your pocket for a convenient kill. I zero in on the target and shoot the bottle off of the fence. The gun did propel back but to my surprise my face and fingers are intact. My face lights up and I grin as I look at Dean who looks surprised and has his arms up to protect his body.

"How'd I do?" I hand the gun to Dean and he never breaks eye contact.

"Where have you been all my life?" I immediately laugh out loud. This is the first time in a long time where I felt happy enough to laugh. Dean looks surprised yet again and smirks and looks over at Sam who is watching us from my car and sitting on the hood. I suddenly felt like a kid again who was just told the corniest of jokes. "You must have gotten that from your father, the whole shooting bit." I think about that and realize he is probably right. I always watched his technique and how he managed a gun. Without realizing it, I throw my arms around Dean and hug him tightly. There's that smell again. It's so calming, yet almost dangerous. He slowly puts his arms around me returning the hug.

As we cross the border into Missouri, it is starting to get dark. Sam knocks Dean and me out of a reverie.

"Wait! Claire doesn't have any fake ID's!" Dean suddenly realizes the same thing.

"Fake ID's? Why would I need that? I'm of age." I chuckle.

"No, what he means is, we use fake ID's to look like officials. We pretty much have an ID for everything; FBI, CIA, pretty much every police department." Dean explains.

"That couldn't sound any more illegal if you tried." I groan. "How long have you guys been doing this?"

"We learned it from our Dad and yours probably did it, too." Sam said.

"How are we going to get me a fake ID?"

"Bobby probably knows a guy in the St. Louis area." Sam flips open his phone and dials Bobby. While he's talking to Bobby, I start thinking about the sheer wrong this feels like. Yet, I still want to do it. I am tired of feeling too scared and these boys know what they are doing. I think.

"Okay, go in the direction of St. Louis. His name is Donald." Sam closed his phone. "He'll be able to help us out."

"Wait, how will I be able to _dress_ the part?" I ask worriedly. I only have street clothes in my trunk. Dean reaches in his wallet and hands me a card.

"We'll stop at a store in the morning and use this credit card, but for now, we need to find a hotel. Sammy?" Sam whips out a map and guides us to the nearest hotel.

When we drive up, the hotel looks extremely nice. How do these boys afford this?

"How much money do we have?" I ask.

"We got money."

"How? You don't get paid for this gig."

"Wanna know the truth?" Dean asks. "Credit card scams." I feel like I should be shocked, but for some reason I am not.

"Alright then. I'll pay for tonight." Sam and Dean look at each other and frown.

"How can Sammy?" Sam whips out a map and guides us to the nearest hotel.

When we drive up, the hotel looks extremely nice. How do these boys afford this?

"How much money do we have?" I ask.

"We got money."

"How? You don't get paid for this gig."

"Wanna know the truth?" Dean asks. "Credit card scams." I feel like I should be shocked, but for some reason I am not.

"Alright then. I'll pay for tonight." Sam and Dean look at each other and frown.

"How can _you _afford it?" Sam asks.

"When my grandmother died last year, she left all of her money to me and her possessions to her children. She told me the only reason she gave me the money is because I am the only one she trusts to spend it responsibly."

"Save your money, this isn't exactly responsible." Dean said. I knew there was no use in arguing, so I accepted.

When we got into the hotel lobby, we were told that due to the sheer amount of kids on spring break, there are only rooms with single beds. I groan and we accept, because we need the sleep. Once we enter the room, we are astounded. How could a bunch of teenage kids afford luxury like this? I drop my bags by the door and absentmindedly look around the room. There is a walk in shower and a load of hotel soaps. The floors are made of hand laid tiles that create a beautiful design. I turn my attention to the bed which has a white fabric canopy with not so bright lights that set a calming tone to the room.

"I've never been in such a nice place in my life." I slide my hand across the cotton sheets. I turn around to see the boys still standing in the doorway, looking uncomfortable. "Oh, I see. You guys can take the bed, to avoid any sudden awkwardness."

"Whoa, whoa. I am _not _sleeping next to a damn moose, he hogs the blankets and has done that since we were kids. Plus, he farts like a damn skunk." Dean looks over at Sam, who looks annoyed.

"Alright. I'll take the couch, you guys take the bed. It's that simple." Sam replied. I suddenly feel self-conscious again and try to keep my cool.

"That alright with you, Claire?" Dean asked. "I can sleep on the flo-"

"No one is sleeping on the floor, Dean. I don't mind. Really." I plaster on a small smile. Dean nods quickly and takes off his jacket. I follow suit and then the boys start to undress and I feel the urge to go to the bathroom to change, even though I'm practically wearing what I'll wear to bed under my clothes. I shove on shorts and adjust my tank top and brush my teeth with the brush and paste the hotel so kindly provides. When I walk out, they both are shirtless. I feel like I just walked in on something I shouldn't have and quickly cover my eyes. Sam chuckles.

"What? Never seen two shirtless guys before?" Sam chuckles but Dean just smiles shyly.

"Not in person, unless it was my father, this is just weird. I didn't expect you guys to be so…" I try to find the words.

"Fit? Gorgeous, I know." Dean puts the words into my mouth. "Normally, we would have shirts on, but we actually feel clean in a hotel room for once, so we," Dean jumps face first into the bed and looks so comfortable. "are going to enjoy it." I smile and sit down on the bed and see that Sam is already asleep on the couch. He is so comically large that his feet extend over the arm of the couch. I turn around and see Dean looking at me. Why does he make me feel so uncomfortable?

"What?" I shove my hair behind my ear. Dean props himself on to his elbow and looks concerned.

"Nothing. Just trying to figure you out." He narrows his eyes and I quickly look away.

"Nothing to figure out here." I stand up and Dean leans up quickly. "I'm just a little more…_shy_ then I originally thought. Dean smiles fondly.

"I'm glad. Not a lot of girls like you that wouldn't jump into a bed with a guy like me." I frown slightly.

"Girl like me?"

"I mean, you have your head on straight. You are one of the few that are left that are smart _and_…pretty." He looks up at me and my face is fifty shades of red. I sit back down and mimic his sitting position. "Be proud."

"Blame that on my father. He would kill me and everyone here if he found out what I was doing." I smile. "But, don't be fooled; I'm not that pretty." He frowns and lifts the covers for me. I quickly lay down and face the bathroom door. I hear Dean's voice as I close my eyes.

"You father would be more disappointed if he knew you didn't realize your significant worth." I turn around and he is still facing me. Up close, I can see his imperfections. He has scars and scrapes all over his body. I absentmindedly reach for one of the scratches and he visibly tenses. He notices my sadness. "I can't guarantee you won't get any of these."

"I know. I'm prepared for the consequences." He frowns and I push his hair back and kiss his forehead before I roll over and quickly fall asleep, feeling like the safest girl in the world.


End file.
